Aiming for the Heavens
by Lord of the Saiyans
Summary: The power of the Spiral has carried mankind through many obstacles before, from Lordgenome to the Anti-Spirals themselves. Now, it will be pushed to its ultimate limit, as the skies themselves turn crimson, the cities flow with blood, and mankind finds itself face to face with the twisted soldiers of Chaos. Rewrite of Spiral Matrix.
1. Chapter 1

"Simon, remember this... don't believe in the me who believes in you. And don't believe in the you who believes in me. Believe in the you...who believes in yourself."

"What was that bro?"

Simon half-turned, his face flushed with victory, a grin spread across his mouth. A grin that quickly died as he saw the state of his adopted older brother.

Time slowed down for the lad, the talking and cheering in the background faded away.

"B-bro?"

There was no movement.

"Bro!"

_

The man blinked awake. Echoes of the dream still clinging to his mind. The sun was shining and outside the small shack that he had made for himself, he could hear the birds singing. It was going to be another beautiful day.

He shook his head to clear his mind of the remnants of the last memories he had of his bro. In doing so, he caught sight of himself in the fractured mirror that he kept on the far wall of his little home.

Hmm. He mused to himself as he saw his rough beard and scraggly hair. I don't think any one would recognise me now. The thought was tinged with both sorrow and joy in equal amounts. It was true that he had come out here to avoid a life in the capital, but it was still a shock seeing just how much he had changed in the few short years of his self-imposed exile. One thing hadn't changed though. The eyes. If he looked really close, he could just see the faint spiral look that had defined them almost for his entire period of isolation. With a shrug, he moved away from the mirror and threw on his cloak. It was a sunny day so he didn't drape the hood over his features. Next, he picked up his staff. Home-made like most of his things now. One end tapered down to a drill-like point. That was the only tool he'd ever need.

Well, he thought as his hand instinctively closed over the spot on his throat that he had once worn his core-drill. The only tool he would need from now on. Pushing aside the sudden feeling of emptiness that he always experienced when he thought of the core-drill and what it represented, the man who could have been living like a king made to open the door to his ramshackle home.

He paused.

"Well?" He said, seemingly to thin air. "Are you coming or not?"

"Boo-boo!"

There was motion as a tiny form raced across the floor, the man stood still and after a moment, an adult miniature pig-mole was standing on his shoulder.

"Boo?"

"Its nothing." The man said. "Just dreams. I don't know why I'm having them now. Its long over."

Together, the two old friends stepped outside.

_

He blinked in the sunlight outside. It was warm enough for him to reconsider his cloak. Much moreso than he would have expected for this time of year. He looked around and saw people out and about. Couples laughed and basked in the sun, children played and all around him, the mixed humans and beastmen went about their lives without a care in the world.

He smiled.

"Well, we'd better get moving. Dinner's not gonna find itself."

"Boo-boo!"

"Heh." With a smile on his lips, the man set off. The streets were always crowded at this time. The place was a town verging on a city. Always new people were arriving and old were leaving. New building thrown up. It was in a constant state of flux and maybe that was why he liked it so. There was always a job for someone like him. He had a reputation around town - he'd laughed when he first found out - as a dependable do-gooder. Many wondered how he had fallen on such hard times.

He moved through the streets with an easy grace. Despite his ragged appearance, no one stared or stopped him. There was just something about the way he held himself. Even when he looked like a jobless bum, he had a look to him. Like he knew exactly where he was going even when he didn't.

It was fifteen minutes idle walking into the centre of town. About five if he pushed himself, but the man saw no reason to do that today. He walked slowly, enjoying the sun on his face. And reminiscing on those who no longer walked beside him. His dream had put him in a gloomy mood, reminded him of the past and those he'd left behind in it. Bro, Nia, all those who'd sacrificed their lives for the continued future of humanity. But he wouldn't insult their memory by wishing they were here now. What was it bro would have said?

''Simon, never reach back at the past for help. Those who're gone are gone, ya hear? The best you can do is live your life and think of them."

He could almost hear bro's voice in his ears even now. It seemed impossible that his mentor had been gone so long.

He paused in his musings and frowned.

"Boota, is it just me or does it feel warmer than when we left the house?"

"Boo?"

"No, it definitely feels warmer."

Something wasn't right. Suddenly, the laughter of the crowd sounded distorted, ugly. He didn't know what he was feeling but the world felt wrong. All twisted up, how could no one else feel it?

His hand tightened on the staff that he had carried for his whole self-imposed exile. It hadn't been meant as a weapon, but it'd do for one if he had to use it as such.

Suddenly, the world dropped out from below him. The wrongness increased, coming in malevolent waves.

"Urgh."

He fell to his knees. His head was spinning and he had to fight the urge to vomit.

"Hey, are you all right?" A concerned voice asked. He didn't answer. The feeling was getting stronger faster. It was like a huge field of energy, he could feel it all around them now. Thick enough to chock him.

But what was it?

And then the screaming started.

"The sky! Look at the sky!"

He looked up and a horrified gasp forced its way from his lips. The sky was bleeding. The warm sun was gone, replaced by a colour akin to a fresh wound. Red rain was splattering the ground around them now and he could hear cries of horror and disgust in the distance.

"What the hell is going on?" Said a voice by his side, he turned to regard a brown-haired man.

"I don't know." He answered as he stood up. "But I don't like this at all. You'd better get away from here fast."

Before the man could answer, Simon doubled over again. A savage pain lanced through his gut like a blade.

The other man moved fast, catching him as he fell.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look like you need a visit to a hospital."

"No..." Simon growled. There was no time to explain that the sudden pain was caused by what he could only describe as a fracture in the world. A feeling of absolute wrongness that had been creeping so subtly up on him now made fully manifest. "Something's coming through..."

Before the man could speak, there was a terrible sound. A raging howl that set the spine a tingle. A monster was standing before them. How it had gotten there, he didn't know. Only that it felt wrong on every level. Red-skinned and wearing bronze armour that seemed to fuse into its body, dripping blood and gore it threw back its head and howled.

"Blood for the Blood God!"

More howls, a dozen at least. Simon felt his spirit shiver.

"What are you?" He demanded.

"RAAARGGHHH" It leapt at him with an inhuman speed. A great blade slashed down to behead him, but Simon had already moved. Older, he might have been, but he had never lost the skill and speed that made his piloting of Gurren Lagann so deadly.

Simon brought his staff up with a swift motion. It slammed into the hand that held the blade. A mortal would have lost their grip. This creature only howled, and in its eyes, he saw madness and rage and loss of all control.

It charged him. Staff met sword. The beast seemed puzzled when the wood held, but it only pressed on with more strength. Simon quickly found himself hard-pressed. Fast as he was, strong as he was, this creature was stronger yet. And he felt sick just being around it, constantly under assault. He was sure that his nose was bleeding and yet he had not taken a single hit. He backed away under a flurry of lightning fast blows, the beast pressed on. It seemed happy, consumed with a savage rage but content to fight him one on one.

Simon lashed out, the drill-tip cut a long furrow of flesh across the beast's gut. More blood spilled but instead of backing off, the beast seemed only to become more enraged. It blitzed forwards,there was a ringing as the staff met the blade again. Suddenly, he screamed. A second blade had slashed across his chest. It was a light cut, but the pain was unbelievable. The world around him darkened and he tried to gather his strength. The beast knocked him back with a single kick.

"Your skull will adorn the Skull Throne." It hissed, the first coherent words it had spoken. "My master, the Blood God shall be pleased to receive your skull. If all the mortals on this world fight as such, we will have a fine prize!"

Simon coughed, agony swept through his body. As though the wound was lit on fire. Just what was on that blade?

But it was no poison, he realised slowly. It was some kind of energy, eating away at him. It was like Spiral Power, but dark and twisted. His breathing was heavy. Red tainted his vision. But he saw the beast raise its blade for the final blow.

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"Not a chance." Simon growled, surging forwards. His blade impaled the Daemon with a single strike. It paused, almost shocked.

Simon growled, pain and rage mixing inside him in strange and dark ways. His whole body felt like it was on fire, but still he pressed on. A light aura of emerald energy began to swirl around the tip of the staff.

The Daemon howled in agony, ripped itself free of the staff and staggered back.

Simon felt the staff fall from his numb hands. The Daemon struggled forwards, but something was wrong now. It slowed to a halt, and then with a suddenness that took the breath from his lungs, burst. A shower of gore splattered the street, indistinguishable from the rain.

Simon tried to stand. What happened? He thought, but it was no use. He fell on his back with a jolt of agony. His breathing began to slow and his eyelids felt heavy. Up above, the red colour had spread. Staining the entire sky as far as he could see.

His last sight before the darkness overtook him was a strange ship. Blocky and almost like a cathedral. It felt wrong, dark and twisted like the energy that was attacking his body. As the darkness took him, he saw it heave and spit out a stream of things. Shaped almost like gigantic metal seeds.

Drop-pods? He thought to himself. This doesn't look good...

And then he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

The human jerked as the bolter shell exploded, ripping them apart and sending their blood and guts flying. Karos threw back his head and howled, letting the ecstasy of combat fill him up.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" Returned a brother half a street away.

Bullets bounced off his power armour as the Khorne worshiping Chaos Space Marine waded through a street already chocked with the bodies of those who had stood against them. His armour was stained red with blood and gore dripped from the chainsword he clutched tightly. His hearts beat in sync and he felt alive, truly alive, in the way that only battle could bring.

"Put them to the sword!" He howled. Since the raid was mostly made up of Khornites, the orders were at best redundant but Karos felt that he should at least show some semblance of authority. "Take their skulls for the throne!"

His blade swept up, a soldier who had been trying to escape howled in agony, his spine glistening in the fresh wound Karos had inflicted. His bolt pistol barked, two more exploded in messy showers of gore.

"RAAAGHHH!" He screamed, exalting in the primal call of blood. The soldiers were running now, not so much a retreat as a full on route. The Khornite space marine scowled at them. Cowards. Not even worth the shells of his bolter.

But they would have them anyway.

His trusted weapon had been by his side since he first saw the glory of Chaos. It had brought down Greenskins, degenerate Eldar and even those of his brethren too blinded to see past Imperial propaganda. Now, it claimed three more lives in as many seconds. He was taking his time, lining up his shoots. The little return fire that was sent his way just bounced off his armour. Pathetic. When word had reached him of this newest world to be drawn into the Warp, he had begged Chapter Master Naleas to allow him to lead a raid to determine their suitability. What he found was unimpressive.

A crude barricade set up at the end of the street exploded, flaming debris rained down upon the screaming horde of humans. None were standing now, soldier and citizen fleeing alike. While it was certainly satisfying to be an object of such terror, Karos knew he would have to get in closer to earn the Blood God's favour this day.

He turned and looked at the ancient predator tank, the sole vehicle that they had brought with them on this raid. It was older than him; its hull engraved with symbols and writings that seemed to burn of their own accord. Even he could feel its power in the Warp. A living Daemon was bound within, thirsty for the blood of its enemies it pressed on. Karos would have to move fast if he wanted to get any killing done before the predator stole all the good ones.

His super-human muscles bunched and he leapt forwards. He covered the distance to the crowd in only a few seconds and leapt clean over their heads. He landed with a crunch and a spray of blood, trampling some old fool into the dust.

He roared again. Drinking in the terror so evident on the faces of those closest to him. They tried to back away but the weight of the crowd pushed them in. Not bothering with his blade, he raced into the crowd. The feel of meat and bone beneath his augmented fists was a sensation akin to paradise. Blood sprayed, bones broke. Screams! Glorious screams, prayers to the Blood God.

His eyes settled on an unusual figure. It appeared humanoid but it was coated in tick, shaggy fur. It had two horns protruding from its head and muscular arms to rival that of an Astartes.

A mutant?

It didn't matter. Warp-touched or not, all on this planet would die.

He surged forwards, screams echoed in his wake, but the predator was approaching now. Lobbing shells into the crowd, slaughtering with wild joy, the two Chaos-touched killed and killed. When the blood mist had died back, there was only bodies here.

Karos' armour was dented by several near-misses of the predator. The tank hadn't been using its main cannon - it was much more pleasing to the Blood God for it to use smaller calibre rounds. Rounds that left bodies broken and bent, and a lake of blood.

Like the one he was now standing in.

Breathing deeply, he drew his blade. Today was a good day. So much killing in the name of the Lord of the Skull Throne. Even if the enemies were weak, unworthy of the honour done to them, he would make up for it with quantity.

Stepping over the body of a blond-haired man, he heard a faint sound. The beating of a terrified human heart. It would have been inaudible to anyone save an Astartes but Karos' senses had not been diminished since he saw the truth of the universe. Indeed, they had been substantially enhanced. There was a child, sheltering in a depression between two bodies. Probably parents. He raised his bolter with a fluid motion. The Blood God did not care for pain or suffering, such was the delight of the Prince of Pleasure. No, what Khorne demanded was death and battle in equal measure. Such was the fate of this child.

A soft sound was all the warning he had. He ducked the side faster than a man could blink as a blade swept up through the space he had been standing. Coming to a rest, the Chaos Space Marine watched as the blond-haired man he had mistaken for death slowly clambered to his feet. Karos noted that his wounds were vanishing, almost as though they were melting away. The man snarled, revealing a set of pointed teeth to rival those of some of his more blood-crazed brothers.

Another mutant? Perhaps this one would prove more of a challenge. If his regenerative powers were anything to go by, this could be fun. Karos stashed away his pistol and drew his blade. It whirred as he depressed the activation rune. The mutant circled, his blade was old-fashioned. This wouldn't take long.

The two dove at each other, steel rang out and the scream of a chainblade. The mutant jerked back as the blades met, but to Karos' surprise, the steel blade didn't break or fracture. He cut for the head with all his speed but the mutant managed to deflect, turning a death-blow into a shallow cut across the shoulder.

This one was strong and fast.

His hearts began to beat a little faster. Maybe...just maybe this world would be more of a challenge than he had dared hope. As the fight continued, Karos launched several probing attacks, testing his enemy. The mutant returned in kind. But Karos was old, masterful. He turned each potential threat away with the minimum of motion. As the blades met, his own roared and the steel sparked. It'd snap soon enough. He was surprised it hadn't already. The other's blade must have been crafted with high quality equipment.

Suddenly, the mutant dove forwards. His blade stabbed for Karos' exposed eye. The Chaos Space Marine was forced to back-paddle, a second blow hammered into his chest but his armour laughed it off. A third blow angled in, but he swept it aside with his sword.

This was enough.

Suddenly no longer playing, the Chaos Space Marine surged forth.

The blades met, steel screamed,. Karos brought all his power down into the attack. To his surprise, the mutant was strong... almost astartes strong...

Almost.

With a sudden surge of power, the other's blade was angled down. Karos acted. He slammed his fact down into the other's expression of shock. Bone cracked, brain matter flew and the mutant went limp.

Karos laughed.

"You did well. mutant." He said, when the blood-lust had died down enough that he could talk again. "If only I knew your name, that I could record it. You're the first mortal to stand up to me in a very long time."

He debated on taking the mutant's skull, but there was no point. His head-butt had shattered it into fragments.

He turned back to the predator, which had not moved during the fight. He was under no illusion that it would not have swatted the mutant the second he was not so close, but he was grateful for the chance to finish his fight. Even if the mutant had not proven as tough as he would have liked.

"My name..." Came a voice from behind him. Karos spun, the mutant was standing! How? He'd shattered his skull, and now all trace of the wounds had vanished. "Is Viral."

Viral launched himself at the marine in a blur of motion. His blade whipped out. It clashed again and again, the blows coming in so fast even the space marine began to feel overwhelmed .

The blades locked and for a second, the two were face to face.

"And I am no mutant. I am beastman. Former aid to the Spiral King, formerly of the human annihilation army, and I will be the one to send you to your end."

They broke and Viral hammered in with a flurry of blows from the side. His armour sparked as the blade struck, but couldn't penetrate.

"Very well." Spat Karos as he caught the sword in his hand. Viral grunted and tried to rip it free, but against the augmented strength of a Chaos Space Marine, he could find no purchase.

"My name is Karos. I am a servant of Khorne, the Blood God and in his name I will claim your skull."

With a sudden twist, he shattered the blade. Letting it fall from his hand like so many slivers of glass.

"I am heading this raid in the name of the Soul of Blood and my Chapter, the Crimson Soldiers. Now, DIE."

He raised his blade for the killing blow. Maybe this Viral was a regenerator, but how well could he heal if his head was separated from his shoulders? Looks like he'd have Viral's skull after all!

And then, the predator behind him exploded.

"What the?!" Karos spun again, forgetting the self-proclaimed beastman as two massive figures hovered above the street. His first thought was ''titans'' but they were too small, and too slim. Human-like in a way that the God-Machines of the Machanicus wholly lacked.

"Gimmy, Darry." Viral chuckled to himself darkly. "About time you two got here."

With a single bound, Karos launched himself at the machines. One of them raised a giant-sized hand-weapon of some description. He saw a blaze of emerald light and then-

Nothing.

Supreme Commander Rossiu stood with his back to the door as Leeron entered the dark office. The engineer glanced curiously around. It wasn't often that he got a chance to sneak a peek into Rossiu's private quarters. His mild flaring of curiosity was, however, quickly crushed as he caught a glimpse of the window. The sky outside was still red.

He shivered.

He didn't know what could have caused this, but it felt all wrong to him. Even if the attacks of the last day weren't still painfully fresh in his memory, he would have said that they were in a bad situation. But now? He was forcibly reminded of the Anti-Spirals attack on Earth and just how close they had come to being permanently wiped from existence. Then, Rossiu had asked him to come up with a last ditch plan to save mankind.

Now, Leeron suspected, he was about to do so again.

"Well?" Rossiu said, turning to face him. Leeron couldn't help but notice the new wrinkles that marked his features. Stress. The job was hard at the best of time, and being attacked by genocidal aliens probably didn't help.

"You know I'm probably not the best one to do this." He said. "I'm an engineer."

"Humour me." Rossiu said.

Leeron sighed softly.

"Very well.

In the past day we've had multiple attacks or raids by an unknown party worshipping some kind of ''blood god''. Except for in one case, they didn't bring any heavy equipment. The one time they did, they devastated a large chunk of the city before Gimmy and Darry dealt with them. Death toils across the world have been high. Reports suggest that they dropped in from space, utilizing some kind of rapid deployment vehicles dropped from orbit. These ''drop-pods'' were launched from a mothership which appears to have left the system."

"Right." Rossiu said, " I know all that but what about what's happened to the sky?"

"That's...a good question." Leeron said, joining the other man by the window. They stared up into the sullen crimson together in silence for a moment.

"Honestly I don't know." Leeron admitted at last. " You know me, I always have a theory of some sort but this is just beyond me. Its like the Anti-Spirals all over again. Mysterious enemy appears and attacks, and strange things happen."

"Yeah." Rossiu said, "I was thinking the same thing. But this time we don't have Simon."

"He's around somewhere." Said Leeron, carefully not mentioning the way that Rossiu had actually treated Simon the last time something like this had happened. "I'm sure he'll show up if we need him. That's just Simon's way."

"Perhaps." Said Rossiu. Maybe Leeron was imagining it but was there a hint of wastefulness in the other's tone?

"Regardless." Rossiu said, all hint of emotion banished. "We can't rely on someone if we can't find them. Since we don't know how many more of these invaders are coming, we'll have to assume its a full scale assault. See to the families of those killed in the initial attacks."

"Of course." Leeron said. " And what're you going to do?"

"I'm going to try and figure out a way to win this."


	3. Chapter 3

As president of Kamina City, Rossiu had many duties. He set policy, he stood as a major diplomatic figure. He attended functions, and he was even technically the head of the military. With all these many jobs clamouring for his attention, he had considered lucky if he got even a few hours sleep.

And that was before the sky had vanished. Three days had passed since then. Three days of constant work. Of panicked reports from all settlements. Always the same ones, too.

_Invaders appearing from nowhere. Hulking monsters, massive losses. Please send help. _

He was tired. So tired. Was this how his mentor had felt so long ago? The old priest who had determined that the village could hold only fifty people? Rossiu appreciated that now. There were only so many Grapearls that he had to deploy, and conventional forces had proved to be more or less useless. Every time he sent out his forces to save someone, he condemned someone else to death.

Now, as he sat in the conference room, and gazed into the faces of each of his companions, he saw that they felt the same way. Everyone looked worn, and haggard. Bags under the eyes, and blinking back the exhustion. Not one of them had gotten a good night's sleep, and he was willing to bet that none of them could. Not until this was over.

If it ever would be...

_Lord Genome, the Anti-Spirals, and now this. _ Rossiu thought to himself. _Are we forever doomed to be made into targets? Is this the fate of mankind? To fight one enemy after another until we are finally overcome? _

He rubbed his forehead, trying to message away the tiredness. That was exhaustion talking, and he knew it. The people's faith rested on him. He felt it like a real weight, pressuring him every waking moment. He'd buckled once, back during the war against the Anti-Spirals. Not again. Never again.

"Are you okay there, Rossiu?" Kinon asked. "You look tired."

"We're all tired." Leeron put in, from his own seat. "You don't look so good yourself there, honey."

It was true. Kinon's hair was a mess, her eyes as baggy as the rest of them. She was half-asleep in her seat, but even so, she managed to muster some anger at the comment. Rossiu felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be able to do half the things he did. She managed the paperwork, the schedule. She even took on his own duties when he felt too tired. She was a miracle in human shape, and if not for her, he was convinced he would have been crushed under the job long ago.

"Enough of this." Rossiu cast his eyes over the room. Noting the faces lined around the table, both familiar and otherwise. Kittan, Viral, Yoko, Artenborough, and so many others. He felt a faint ping of lonliness as he looked at each of them in turn.

_Why is it that we only ever come together when there's a crisis? Team Dai-Gurren should be seen in public more often. _

Of course, that'd be totally pointless without the man who actually made the team. Simon. Simon the Digger. The man who had inspired mankind to reclaim the surface, who had fought Lord Genome, and battled the Anti-Spirals in their own realm. Of each and every one of them, Simon was the best. If Team Dai-Gurren had become heroes for their activies, then Simon had become a true legend.

And like a legend, he was hard to find. Rossiu had tried over the years. Even if ehw asn't entierly sure why. Maybe he'd wanted to apologise for everything he'd done, or maybe he'd wanted someone who had felt the same pressure as he. Whatever the case, he'd never found him. He might have thought him dead but...

Simon would never give up and die like that. He'd never be content to fade into the background forever. Someday, he'd be back.

And now was a really good time.

"What do we know of the invaders?"! Rossiu asked the assembled crowd. They were his inner circle. His science and military adivsers. People he could trust with the safety of the world.

"Leeron, what do you know of the current situation?"

The man sighed. He looked the most tired of all of them. Haggard might have been an appropriate term. In all the years Rossiu had known him, Leeron had always taken care of his appearance. He'd teased him, and said that it was because of his sexual orientation. But really, Rossiu had come to suspect that under that mask, he was a man who prized control. Control over himself, and over his engines. Even at a young age, he'd been gifted with machines.

Now, he looked like he'd just risen from the dead. His hair was messy, his skin was patched with oil stains, his eyes were baggy, and he seemed only peripherally aware of the world around him.

"It's not good." He said. "Since the invaders arrived, we've taken heavy losses in nearly every major city. They don't just hit military targets. Civilian, or unaligned, it doesn't matter to them. They just like to kill. Luckily, they don't seem to have a whole lot of numbers."

He pressed a button, and the top of the table slid away, a holographic projector clicked into action, and Rossiu saw an image of the world flicker into view. It rotated slowly, and a section of it began to glow red.

"That's West City." Leeron said. "Where they broke through originally. Most of the initial drop pods landed there. We lost contact shortly thereafter. It's safe to assume that every person in the city is dead."

The silence that followed the statement was heavy. More than a million people dead in a single night. Women, children and men, all slaughtered without mercy or compassion. Beastman or human, it didn't matter to the invaders.

He realised his hands were shaking under the table.

"The invaders seem to have set up shop here." Leeron continued. "Ariel flybys have captured images of them raising barricades, and mustering forces. Also...they seem to be displaying highly ritualistic behaviour. They've lined the streets with spikes, and strange crosses. They...they nail the bodies of their victims to them. And they've been using the blood too. Filling up local lakes and swimming pools."

"Those bastards!" Kittan's hand slammed down on the table, with enough force to make it quake. "They don't even let the dead rest in peace! We need to do something, and do it fast. If there's not a lot of them, let's just hit them right now. Everything we have. We crush them as quick as we can, and make them pay for what they've done."

"Not so easily done." Viral commented. "The grapearl core is overstretched just defending our holdings. Asking them to mount an attack is foolish. I did ask to expand the core some time ago. It was put off as not important." The unspoken criticism hung heavily in the air.

"What about conventional forces?" Rossiu asked. "We have planes, tanks, soldiers. We're a whole planet against a few. We should be able to overwhelm them."

"Probably." Viral said. "If you're willing to accept the resulting losses. Leeron, can you call up the graph?"

"Sure thing." The engineer pressed another series of buttons, and the image vanished. It was replaced by a picture of one of the invaders. It was...a sight. A massive man, hulking and brutal. He was wearing powered armour, or at least, what seemed to have once been it. It was overrun with growths, flesh and chitin. He was holding an axe almost as big as he was, the sides running with blades. And in the other, the pistol that was bigger than the chest of an average man.

"This is their standard soldier." Leeron said. "This armour they wear is powered by advanced technology. Even with few specimens we've managed to recover, I can say that I haven't seen anything like it. It takes their already considerable speed, strength and endurance and multiples it by several times. One of these men could cut down fifty of our soldiers easily. That axe you see him carrying? It seemed to be made out of some ultra dense metal. It cleaves through our thickest armours with ease. Even a tank is at risk from a single one of them. The pistol he is using is actually closer to one of our rocket launchers. It fires self-propelled explosive ordnance. Just a handful of these soldiers could fight an army and have a good chance of winning."

"And if that's not enough." Viral went on. "The armour they wear is highly protective. Most of our weapons bounce off. Only Spiral Rounds penetrate, and those are rare. Grapearls also tap into Spiral Power, so they have had more success, but even so, we've lost many. I fought one in hand to hand combat when they first attacked. Me killed me two or three times." The beastman closed his eyes, and stopped for a moment, as though admitting something deeply shameful. "If local forces had not intervened, I do not know if I could have won the fight."

"Oh, this is just perfect." Kittan grumbled. "So they're better than us in every way except numbers? Come on people, we need ideas! We can't just rush them if we'll lose too many people."

"That may be our only option." Rossiu said, his eyes locked to the table. "If we cannot do something, they will continue raiding. Even more lives will be lost. Eventually, we may come to wish we'd just struck when we could, and absorbed the losses."

"Absorbed the losses?" Kittan growled. "Those losses are people! How many hundreds or thousands would die because of that?"

"They're soldiers." Rossiu snapped. "They knew the risks. And we can't keep going like this. Viral, considering the losses our Grapearl core is taking, how long can we sustain our defence before we lose the capacity to strike back?"

"Three days." The beastman admitted. "Maybe less. Grapearls are being pushed tight. We're moving all over the world, but almost every city needs help. These soldiers are raiding quickly, striking and then departing. We have to respond to every call, and our pilots are getting very little sleep. Soon, they'll start to make mistakes, and our losses will climb."

"Where do they come from?" Viral asked. "Why are they even here?"

"I don't know." Leeron sighed. "They just appeared, and didn't even bother declaring war. It's like they hate us. I don't suppose they could be more minions of the Anti-Spirals?"

"It's a possibility." Rossiu admitted. "But not the only one. I don't want to make any guesses until we know more."

"So, what are our options here?" Leyte spoke up for the first time. "March our men to them to die in the hopes that we manage to take them with us? Is that really all we have?"

"That's about it, by the look of things." Rossiu said. "We have nothing else. The Grapearl force is stretched, and will be facing annihilation soon. Our conventional army takes heavy losses in every engagement, and every day we delay, more innocent people die."

"Makes you wonder why we even came to the surface." Someone muttered at the back of the room.

Rossiu gave a soft sigh.

"We have other plans in the works." He said. "But until they're ready, we're going to have to go ahead with a military strike. We have three days until we can't anymore, so I suggest we spend two days looking for other solutions and building our forces. Look."

He hit his own keys, and the image changed yet again. Now, it was a zoomed out picture of the region.

"There's a town to the north and the south of West City. They're still held by our forces. We can use those as staging posts, and build up strength. Trying to catch them from both sides. It looks like our best option."

"Our best option..." Kittan voiced the opinion of the table. "Sucks balls. There's gotta be something else. We need a heavy hitter. We need Gurren Lagann."

"Gurren Lagann." Rossiu voiced the name, the very sound enough to call back so many memories. Kamina and Simon. They'd be able to turn the tide for sure. They'd inspire everyone, they'd speak about doing the impossible, and just for a moment you'd believe they could. They reached into you, past your brain and your heart, and they grabbed you by the soul and didn't let go. Their spirits blazed, and while you were near them, yours did as well. The world was totally different while you were near those two.

But Kamina had died long ago, and Simon had been out of contact so long he may as well have been dead.

"You know we have no pilots for Gurren Lagann." Rossiu said. "Gimmy and Darry have the Core-Drill, but they're more skilled with their own craft. They can be better work with the rest of the army."

"Damn it, we need a symbol! Gurren Lagann would inspire everyone! It'd raise our hearts, and make people think this war could be won!"

Rossiu adjusted his glasses, and stared at the blond-haired man. Kittan was a man close to his heart, but he always had trouble seeing the bigger pictures. He was too much in the make of Kamina.

"And what when they see Gurren Lagann, their last hope going down in flames? What then? Gimmy and Darry are not skilled enough pilots, they are better suited to their own craft. I hope you're not suggesting we force them to pilot a mech that might get them killed?"

Kittan sunk back into his seat. Shimmering with anger at the accusation..

"Of course not." He snapped. "But we need to do something, damn it."

"We do have one other mech of the same type." Leeron said. "Lazengann, or at least, what we could recover from it after the final battle. Perhaps we could use that?"

"Same problem." Viral said. "But even worse. We're at least somewhat familiar with Gurren Lagann. Several of us have piloted it along with Simon. But Lazengann? Never. The only one to ever use that machine was the Spiral King."

"And both times he used it, it was heavily damaged." Rossiu noted. "I don't know if we should pin our hopes to it even if we could."

"So where does that leave us?" Kittan asked. "We just gather our forces and hope for the best?"

"Basically." Rossiu said. "We have two days to come up with other ideas. Leeron, I know you're working hard, but I need you to push yourself even more. You and your team may be the only way we have to figure out what happened. Kittan, Viral, you two are heroes to the masses. We need you now more than ever. I don't want to ask you to risk yourselves but..."

"You need us on the front lines." Viral commented.

"Yeah, I get you." Kittan said. "Things are looking grim, and if we can't have Simon, you need to get the next best thing. Kittan, of the Black Siblings! I'll whip our forces into shape, you just count on it! I'll show them what we're made of!"

"Try not to take unnecessary risks." Rossiu said. "If you two were to die, it would be a blow to moral. One we can't afford. But we have to be seen to do something, we have to make people feel safe. The easiest way is to be visibly sending our best and most elite troops."

"I'm honoured." Viral said. "But we all know that the two of us can't turn a war around on our own. I take it you want us to participate in the attack?"

"Yes." Rossiu felt like he was signing their death warrants. "I'll gather as many forces as I can in the time we have. When the hour comes, each of you will lead one of the two armies. It's our best chance at victory. I'm giving you both everything we have. Unlimited authority, and every soldier I can ferry to the staging posts in time for the attack. The fate of the world may rest on your shoulders."

"No pressure then." Kittan said. "Besides, we can always hope that Simon turns up again, right?"

"That's true." Leeron said. "If there's one thing that boy does well, its turn up when he's most needed and do something stupidly heroic."

"Push beyond the impossible." Viral said with a faint smile. "I wouldn't be surprised. I suppose if we're going to go all in, hoping for Simon to turn up wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Yeah." Kittan said with a grin. "He's probably out there already. Buying his time, and watching for the chance to strike! I feel safer already just knowing he's got this all under control."

He clutched his gut, and moaned in pain. Staggering slowly through the burning town. Bodies littered the ground, and each step sent a splashing ripple through the blood that filled the streets, but he hardly noticed. He felt like he'd been impaled, but it was far worse than that. _It _was moving around inside him. Twisting and turning in ways that brought him even greater agony.

The pain spiked, and he groaned, falling to his knees. His arms were shaking, he was seeing red. His whole body was aflame and he could do nothing.

With trembling hands, he pulled aside his blood-soaked shirt. There, where the creature had slashed him, the flesh was turning. It was light, it should have clotted. But it hadn't. Was it blood loss that was making him feel this way? So weak? He couldn't even find the strength to stand up again. He felt like he'd puke, only he wasn't even strong enough for that.

He realised he'd been looking down. Towards the bloody ground. There was a body there. Slowly, he reached out.

It was a child. Stabbed in the back as she'd tried to run.

"No." He spoke, the words bringing fresh agony to his body. _This can't be it. I refuse to let it end like this. Come on, Simon, get up! Where's your fighting spirit?_

It wasn't working. His Spiral Power wasn't kicking in. The invader in his body was fighting it, dashing it every time he tried to gather it in any place. His whole body was under attack, and he couldn't even muster the strength to fight back.

What was this force? This energy that pervaded his body now? He couldn't say, except that it was not Spiral Power. It was the opposite. He felt it churning inside, burning and consuming. Driving up his pain. His body was burning, his muscles withering away. He was going to die, going to die here alone but for the dead...

"The hell with it." He growled, and forced himself to move again.

_Grit those teeth, Simon. _ His bro's voice echoed from the past.

He couldn't stand, but he could crawl. One hand in front of the other, dragging himself forwards, he kept on. So long as he could still move, it meant they hadn't won. So long as he had any energy at all, he'd find a way to fight back.

"It's not over." He wondered who he was trying to convince.

He kept moving. No matter how hard it had become. If he stopped now, he knew that he would stop for good. His staff was gone, and Boota had vanished during the fight. He hoped the little pig-mole had gotten away.

Had to keep moving. Had to find somewhere to rest. He'd recover if he could only rest...

His head was swimming. The world around him had long since ceased to exist. It was only Simon now. Simon and his constant journey forwards on his hands and knees. Each move a new wave of pain. His head felt like it was caught in a vice. His chest burned where he had been cut. The dark energy twisted inside him. Trying to rip him apart from the inside out. He imagined it like a creature. Trying to burrow into his flesh, to fill him with itself. To become him.

It wasn't working. His own power was keeping that from happening. But it was burning up his body too. He was going to die. He was going to die here.

He was crawling across a field of glass. A field of fire. He didn't know how much further he could go, but he was damned if he'd stop before he had to. He..he owed his bro that much.

Kamina, Nia, the others. Their faces fluttered across his mind. Each of them, a reason he couldn't give up. A tiny little candle against the night.

The world needed him. Needed Gurren Lagann. He needed to...needed too...

He was too weak. He fell forwards with a crash, and lay still. The feel of sticky blood on his cheek. His chest heaved for air.

_Is this where it ends? _Simon thought. _I won't die face down in the ground. I won't pass that way._

It took all his strength to push himself onto his back. His arms stung, his shoulders burned, he almost felt like his heart would burst from the strain. But still, he managed it. And so, he gazed up into the red sky, and saw the twisting vortices, the screaming faces. The images that traced themselves across the clouds.

Anger.

Even now, the sky was denied him. The surface that he had worked all his life to reach. The place Kamina had died to reach. The open sky, and the wind on your face. Gone. Stolen in a heartbeat. By these things.

He didn't know what they were. He didn't care at the moment. All he felt, was anger. Angry at the world, angry at the energy which ravaged his body, and angry at himself for being so weak. To fall to a single blow. What would Viral say?

The world started to go dark around Simon. He just didn't have the strength to fight it any more.


End file.
